


House of Fortune

by MildredMost



Category: Original Work
Genre: Crossdressing, Emotional Hurt, Falling In Love, Flirting, Gambling, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Injury Recovery, Loyalty, M/M, Master & Servant, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Opium, Tournaments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-15 01:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13602603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildredMost/pseuds/MildredMost
Summary: A penniless Knight and his squire travel to compete in a great Tournament. But their plans are foiled by injury, and the only way to support themselves is by gambling at the mysterious House of Fortune.“You were ever a shoddy squire, Simon,” Sir Elrick tried to joke, but it came out wrong. Too solemn. He lay down, the edges of his vision blackening suddenly. He could see Simon looking down at him with concern.That was a jest, he tried to say, but felt too weak form the words.“I know. I’m sorry.” Simon’s voice was soft.





	House of Fortune

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liadt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/gifts).



Sir Elrick returned from the war with no money, no prospects and a squire who needed feeding. His Lord Elphinstone was dead, his inheritance was long spent on war, and his family home was in ruins.

He should have relished the freedom. He’d been loyal to Lord Elphinstone of course, but God knew he was not a great Knight and had never truly loved the vocation. He’d always preferred playing with numbers than tilting at the ring. However he was responsible for more than just himself.

“We’ll follow the tournaments,” he declared to Simon, his squire and responsibility, as they sat under the leaking roof in the kitchens trying to keep warm. That should get them enough money to be going along with.

“You should find a rich lady to marry,” his squire said, turning the spit which held a rabbit they’d managed to trap. He picked up Sir Elrick’s shield and held it over his head to keep the rain off as a stream of water ran from a hole in the roof and sizzled into the fire.

Sir Elrick wrinkled his nose as he scrubbed a hand across his beard thoughtfully.

“I think it’s best I don’t marry, don’t you?” he said. “At least not for now. You know my tastes.”

“I know what you say they are,” Simon said cheekily. “But I’ve offered to warm your bed often enough and you’ve never taken me up on it.”

“God’s teeth Simon, we’ve been over this,” said Sir Elrick, never sure if Simon was quite in jest.

“I know, I know,” Simon said. “You don’t fuck your squires, you don’t fuck your servants, and you don’t fuck foreign Princes because they’re snotty little arseholes who don’t care if the other person’s finished or not.”

“I’ve never said that last bit,” said Sir Elrick.

Simon grinned. “Well, take it from me.”

Sir Elrick laughed. He’d found Simon in a tavern somewhere in the south of England, looking for work. Simon had little idea where he’d come from, and cared even less, though his dark good looks suggested somewhere far from these shores.

Simon, it had turned out, was an irrepressible tart who indulged in men as one might indulge in wine, and with about as much guilt. Sir Elrick occasionally thought that he should be providing him with some better spiritual guidance, but it would be like trying to teach a fish not to swim. He’d dragged Simon to confession a time or two but had given up after catching him energetically acquainting himself with a starry-eyed altar boy behind a tapestry.

“A tourney,” Simon said thoughtfully, offering Sir Elrick the half raw, half charred bit of meat he’d cooked. Lucky for Simon he was easy on the eye, for his cooking was abysmal. “What a good idea.”

Xxxx

It was spring when they caught up with the tournament circuit in France, just as it revived after the doldrums of Lent. Sir Elrick had spent the last of their money on a new sword, a better horse, and some clothing for Simon bearing Sir Elrick’s crest.

Simon knew how well he looked with his dark skin and dark curls contrasting against the red of his tunic. “Look at me wearing your mark,” he said, looking up at Sir Elrick through his eyelashes. “Like I’m your property. Sir Elrick’s boy.”

“Stop it,” said Sir Elrick feeling amused and aroused in equal measure. Damn the boy for his flirting, he couldn’t know how it affected him. Simon tried to look hurt but his eyes were full of laughter. “If you were my ‘boy’ my armour wouldn’t be in such a state of disrepair. Now bugger off and pay poor Sir Aeldred some attention, he looks as though he might faint from desire of you.”

They both looked over at a pale red-haired Knight who’d been gazing forlornly at Simon like a horse over a gate. They watched as he went red from his neck right up to the tips of his ears.

“He almost did faint last night,” Simon said with a wink. “Innocent flower.”

He buggered off as requested. Sir Elrick smiled to himself. Half the camp must have heard Sir Aeldred’s cries the night before.

It was the Simon effect. An effect he had successfully resisted for years, though most people went down before him like a ninepin. It hadn’t been a problem at first. Simon had been sixteen when they met, a comely lad and cheeky as they came, but Sir Elrick at twenty-one had preferred men with a little more hair on their pelt. Now Simon was nearing twenty-one himself - almost too old to be a Squire - and a constant distraction to Sir Elrick, with his long legs and muscled arms, and dark, mischievous eyes.

Sir Elrick sighed. He loved the boy of course. Not like _that_ , he told himself. Like an older brother. Or a distant, unrelated uncle. Yes.

He had to make some money somehow to set Simon up as a Knight in his own right. Simon had stuck with him through some sticky situations, and had fought by his side in countless battles; he owed him this much.

But as he watched Simon casually put his hand on Sir Aeldred’s arm and lean in to whisper something in his ear which made the Knight turn almost puce, he couldn’t help but fantasise about knocking Sir Aeldred down and taking Simon back to their lodgings to find out what the hell he had done that had caused the man to make such outrageous noises.

Xxxx

They visited the tavern that evening, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself so much. Simon held court, drawing the funny little sketches of all the Knights that he was so good at. Simon loved to draw; Sir Elrick would collect any odds and ends of paper he came across and keep them in his pack so Simon had something to doodle on. Paper was was easier to find here in France and people clamoured for Simon to draw humorous likenesses of themselves.

Sir Elrick had struck up a conversation with an odd little fellow who was on his way to help build a cathedral in England. It was so interesting that he barely noticed Sir Aeldred gathering Simon off outside for a time and them both returning dishevelled and breathing hard.

“I travelled here to see the great French cathedrals and reproduce them at home. I have made copious plans. I can show you if you wish?”

Sir Elrick was more than happy to pore over them. He always found these things most enjoyable. He wondered if it would have been the sort of thing he’d done, if he hadn’t been a Knight. He looked at the plans in minute detail.

“Here, you have this angle wrong,” he said suddenly. “If you just…” he grabbed one of Simon’s sketches and flipped it over, scratching out a rough plan. “You see? You could add a great deal of height this way.”

“You have a talent with calculations,” the man said, scratching his bald head. “Truly remarkable. You should come to York and work with me, it would be an incredible help.”

“You should. I haven’t seen you this cheerful in an age,” said Simon, who had slid into the seat next to Sir Elrick after returning from his dalliance with Aeldred. He casually leant against Sir Elrick who snatched a look at him and saw some straw caught in his hair. Sir Elrick shook his head, and with a half smile, plucked the straw from Simon’s curls and cast it on the ground. Simon smiled back and nuzzled his head briefly against Sir Elrick’s shoulder, like a cat.

“I have money to make, I’m afraid,” Sir Elrick said.

“I would pay you, of course,” the man said. “Not as much as a tournament prize, but very decently.”

And the wage would amply support Sir Elrick’s needs no doubt. But he needed tournament prizes for Simon’s sake, not his own. He couldn’t expect Simon to hang around for months as Sir Elrick saved slowly from a wage. Sir Elrick smiled and shook his head.

“Well,” said the man, rolling up his plans. “Keep me in mind. There will always be work for you.”

It was nice to think about, though, as he and Simon walked back from the tavern.

“No Sir Aeldred tonight?” he said to Simon as they pushed through the door of their lodgings.

“Nah. I liked the red hair,” Simon said. “But he’s starting to annoy me a bit, if I’m honest.”

“Oh,” said Sir Elrick.

“Well don’t look like that, he wasn’t the love of my life or anything,” Simon laughed.

They undressed side by side, Simon casually helping Sir Elrick with the odd strap or buckle. Sir Elrick slipped into his bed first. Simon was taking more time, stripping down and slowly washing himself by the light of their one candle. Sir Elrick closed his eyes and tried for sleep, but kept opening them again for one more glance at Simon’s smooth dark skin, and the light trail of hair on his stomach, and...and then all the rest. _He’s washing the scent of another man off_ , Sir Elrick reminded himself, and that unsettling thought was enough to subdue his hardening prick and give him the strength to close his eyes once and for all.

“Are you thinking about that man?” Simon said. Sir Elrick blinked at him. “The little cathedral man,” Simon elaborated.

“I was a bit. Wasn’t it fascinating?” Sir Elrick said.

“You really love all that stuff, don’t you. The calculating. I can tell,” Simon said, smiling. “It’s like that book you read when you’re resting. The mathematical...occasions.”

Simon meant the book he had tucked away in his clothing bundle: “The Compendious Book on Calculation by Completion and Balancing”. He’d found a copy while they were on their Crusade which someone had translated from Arabic to French, and it was the most precious thing he owned.

“Mathematical _equations_. I know it’s strange to read such a thing,” Sir Elrick said, feeling a little shy about it.

“I didn’t say that, I just meant it makes you happy. It’s good, I like it when you’re happy,” Simon said. Then laughed. “Though I wasn’t sure if you were just happy or very aroused when he started explaining flying buttresses.”

“Oh aroused, naturally,” Sir Elrick said.

“Pervert,” said Simon and ducked as Sir Elrick threw a bolster at him.

“Go to sleep, Simon,” Sir Elrick said, chuckling to himself as he closed his eyes.

xxxx

Simon helped him dress very carefully the next morning. At last the final strap was tightened and he mounted his horse. Simon gazed up at him.

“You always did look more like a Knight than anyone else I ever saw,” he said.

Sir Elrick knew he did, though he found it more bothersome than anything else. He was broad shouldered and square jawed and blue eyed and fair. But none of that did him any particular good when his heart wasn’t really in it.

He couldn’t think like that though. Simon continued to stare and it occurred to Sir Elrick that his Squire was looking at him with envy and longing for the Knight he no doubt wished to become. He couldn’t let him down.

But let him down he did, when Sir Elrick fell in the first melee.

It had been fast and ferocious. An opponent’s sword had forced its way through a loose plate of his armour and into the flesh of his shoulder. He had no idea who had wounded him but was only glad his horse managed to drag him clear of the fray before he fell off.

It hurt like hell itself, but more than that; it was humiliating. He had not thought himself such a terrible fighter, after all he had survived his Crusade with barely a mark on him. But he’d barely lasted the length of the charge.

The wound was on his right side, the side he often left unprotected in the heat of battle. The side, it began to dawn on him, that Simon usually fought on, shoulder to shoulder with him. Of course you could not take your squire into the melee with you. But to think all this time, Simon had been protecting his weak side with no acknowledgement or thanks. God’s oath, the boy would make a fine Knight one of these days. And all Sir Elrick did was hold him back.

“You’re hurt,” Simon said, almost angrily, when he found him, the blood soaking his tunic.

“I’m sorry,” Sir Elrick said. He felt all at odds with himself. He wanted to explain and thank him and beg forgiveness all at once, but he felt light headed and strange after the rush of the charge and the pain of the wound.

Simon for once was being attentive to his armour. “God’s death,” he swore, his dark eyes flashing anger. His quick fingers were unfastening straps and easing the armour away from the wound. “I saw this was loose yesterday and thought I’d mended it. It needed the blacksmith after all.”

“You were ever a shoddy squire, Simon,” Sir Elrick tried to joke, but it came out wrong. Too solemn. He lay down, the edges of his vision blackening suddenly. He could see Simon looking down at him with concern.

 _That was a jest_ , he tried to say, but felt too weak form the words.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Simon’s voice was soft and seemed to be coming from very far away. “Rest, now.”

When he woke he was in bed, his armour removed and his wound dressed. It smelt of alcohol.

“Who did this?” he said, his mouth dry.

Simon came to his side with some water.

“You needed a surgeon so I got you one.”

“How did we pay for that?” Sir Elrick snapped, gritting his teeth as he tried to sit up.

“I took the gold coin from your pocket. You wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t…”

“That was all we had!” Sir Elrick said. He was so furious with himself he didn’t know what to do.

“I fucking know that,” Simon shot back. “But what did you expect me to do? You were flayed to the bone.”

He pushed the coin they had left into Sir Elrick’s hand.

“Food and lodgings for barely a week,” Sir Elrick calculated.

“No matter,” Simon said. “My turn to make some money.” He smoothed his hair and tweaked at his clothing.

“No. No you won’t. Not like that,” said Sir Elrick, furiously.

“Like what? You think I’m…” Simon gave a sharp little laugh. “Well what does it matter if I do?” he said, more curious than cross.

“Because you’re mine...I mean, my responsibility.”

Simon shook his head. “I’m my own responsibility.”

“I forbid it, Simon,” Sir Elrick said, trying to grasp his arm but wincing in pain instead.

Simon gave him a long look then shrugged and left.

Xxxx

When Simon returned, Sir Elrick was panting with the pain. He could barely focus on Simon as he crossed the room to him.

“Here, I got this from my friend Hamda. The medicine lady on the corner.” Simon held out a small stoppered bottle of what was most likely opium.

“How did you pay for that?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Simon said. Sir Elrick opened his mouth to refuse it, but wave of pain from his shoulder made him speechless.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Simon said, exasperated. “Just take it, will you.”

Sir Elrick was too crazed with pain to think of how Simon might have made the money. Instead he gulped at the bottle. It worked wonderfully fast and he moaned with relief.

Simon sat down beside him and began to gently wipe the perspiration from Sir Elrick’s forehead with a folded cloth. Sir Elrick felt a little dazed at his proximity. He smelt mysterious and delicious, like the incense they burned in certain parts of the camp.

 _In the brothels_ , he thought, against his will.

“Thank you,” he said. “And sorry. This is all my fault.”

Simon shook his head. Sir Elrick, feeling infinitely better, handed him the bottle back.

After assuring himself that Sir Elrick was pain free, Simon took a swig himself.

“God’s oath, I love the feel of this a little too much,” he said grinning.

“Have you pain somewhere?” Sir Elrick said, before wishing he hadn’t asked.

“Only in my heart,” said Simon, beginning to laugh, and flopping backwards on the bed. Sir Elrick took another long sip and his head spun in a marvellous way. Simon took the bottle from him and Sir Elrick fell back against the bolster next to him.

The pain lifted, and the opium surging, Sir Elrick was struck through with a feeling of exhilaration. It seemed wrong for Simon not to feel the same.

“Has someone broken your heart Simon?” he said. Perhaps he could fix it or avenge him or something. He wouldn’t be averse to thumping Sir Aeldred about the head if it came to it. He turned to look at Simon, and they were so close together he could almost count his eyelashes. Perhaps he would. He lifted a hand to touch them, but thought better of it.

“Into tiny little pieces,” Simon said, smiling a slow happy smile. He looked as far from heartbroken as anyone ever had, but Sir Elrick had to know.

“When?”

“I don’t know,” Simon said. He put his hand gently under Sir Elrick’s jaw, but it was only to guide the bottle to Sir Elrick’s lips once more. Surely Simon could feel his pulse fluttering under his fingers. He swallowed.

“You don’t always feel it at first, do you? You’re busy doing other things, and then one day you check and it’s happened. All...all smashed up like a jar of unguent at the bottom of a saddle bag.”

“Unguent,” repeated Sir Elrick. Which was not one of the many things he wanted to say to ease Simon’s heart, but everything was feeling muddled and dreamy. He began to laugh. “Unguent. Such a curious word.”

“Unguent,” said Simon and shook with giggles. Sir Elrick caught the laughter from him and they rocked together, hooting like children. Every time the laughter wound down, one of them would whisper ‘unguent’ and they’d be off again, clinging to each other, wiping tears from their eyes. It was ridiculous and blissful and Sir Elrick felt all his worries and petty jealousies melt to nothingness, just for once.

Xxxx

Sir Elrick awoke hours later with Simon curled into his side, face beautiful in sleep. They hadn’t slept pressed together like this since the cold nights of the Crusade, and even then Sir Elrick had insisted they slept back to back so that it was not improper for the boy in his care. But this was no boy any more. He was a full grown young man. He was warm and vital and Sir Elrick wanted him so badly he could bite him. Or kiss him, just _there_ , on the bow of his full, tempting upper lip. He bit his own lip instead and forced himself to recall rules for solving quadratic equations until his hectic heart calmed again and he could drift back into sleep.

xxxx

Sir Elrick awoke for the second time just as the sun was setting. Simon was already up and dressing.

“How’s the shoulder?” Simon said, not looking at him.

Sir Elrick heaved himself up onto his good arm. He felt sheepish and unsettled after the drugged nonsense of the night before and felt he should be setting a better example. He wondered why Simon wasn’t looking at him. They had shared a bed. Had he said or done anything untoward?

“Better. I’m afraid the medicine made me behave most strangely,” Sir Elrick said.

“Not strangely at all. It felt like old times,” Simon said, a slight smile hovering on his mouth. “How we used to be before you got all serious.”

They had used to drink together all the time, it was true. Sometimes just the two of them, or sometimes with a rowdy crowd at the tavern, or in camp. But that had been before Sir Elrick had begun having these inappropriate feelings, and everything had become so complicated.

“Times change. We’re older now. A bit past all that,” Sir Elrick said shortly, and Simon blinked a little as though he’d been struck. Then he swallowed and composed his expression.

“It’s strange, I always thought we’d have more fun once we were older,” he said. “You’d see me as more equal.” He turned away.

Sir Elrick noticed that Simon was dressing himself in an unfamiliar, ill-fitting shirt which opened distractingly at the throat.

The clothes Sir Elrick had spent the last of their money on gone, then. Carelessly discarded, or given to the man who had broken his heart perhaps? He felt anger well in him.

“Where are your clothes?” he said.

Simon tugged at the too-tight shirt. “They got nicked.”

An obvious lie. Sir Elrick didn’t want to know any more. And Simon looked far too tempting that way, his slim brown throat rising from the pale shirt which hugged every muscle of his chest.

“It is a pity you cannot take better care of your belongings,” he said icily. “Most other squires seem to manage.”

“Not if they were set on by a band of thieves they wouldn’t,” Simon said, still not meeting his eyes.

“Very well,” Sir Elrick said disdainfully. “If you choose to lie to me there’s little I can do.”

“Very well,” Simon mimicked. “If you choose to believe I’m lying there’s little _I_ can do.”

“I expect you’ve been too busy being robbed to make any dinner,” said Sir Elrick, who had lost his temper in the worst, most petty way. “I shall have to go out.”

“There’s meat stew in that pot.”

Sir Elrick frowned at him. Simon frowned back.

“Well maybe I’ll eat that first,” said Sir Elrick.

“Well fucking knock yourself out,” Simon said, and with that outrageous bit of rudeness, left their lodgings.

 

Xxxx

Sir Elrick sat outside the tavern and attempted to knock himself out, with the aid of ale.

“So where is young Simon?” Sir Aeldred asked, sitting down beside him, a lascivious glint in his eye.

“Out. Somewhere. Heaven knows,” Sir Elrick said, a little more heatedly than he meant to.

“You’re more generous than I would be,” Sir Aeldred said. “Sharing him as you do.”

Sir Elrick took a large gulp of his drink to avoid answering.

“If it were me I’d have him under lock and key. That _thing_ he does. You know, with his fingers and his…” Sir Aeldred mimed rather descriptively. “Blood of Christ! I thought I’d lose my reason.”

Sir Elrick swallowed, his eyes watering. “He’s a good boy,” he said gruffly.

“He certainly is. I wonder who he’s off being good to now. Do tell me if he gets bored of them.”

Sir Elrick didn’t reply, only poured another drink. Damn Sir Aeldred for his prattle, and damn him again for having touched Simon at all. He knew he was being ridiculous; jealous and petty. How could he expect Simon to remain chaste? It wasn’t as though Sir Elrick planned to take him to his bed.

But how he’d thought about it. He remembered the very night everything had changed for him.  
They’d been at a feast. It had been a decadent one, with enough wine to fell the largest warrior there, and Simon had attracted attention from the start. Though he couldn’t sit with the Knights at the table, Sir Elrick could see the glances aimed at him, and bristled. Simon was just a boy and these men should know better. But catching sight of him as he leant forward to fill Sir Elrick’s cup, Sir Elrick suddenly felt he was seeing Simon for the first time. When had he grown up? Filled out? When had his boyish face become older, and angular and so...beautiful?

Simon had seen him looking, and smiled at him hesitantly at first, and then more broadly as he saw something in Sir Elrick’s eyes that Sir Elrick wished he could hide. Standing behind him at the table like a good squire, he had put his hand on the back of Sir Elrick’s neck and rubbed his thumb gently across it. And Christ, even that tiny touch made Sir Elrick want to take him then and there. But to his eternal regret, he pushed Simon’s hand away with a frown, and turned his back on him. Without looking around, he sensed the slight movement behind him and the loss of warmth as Simon moved away.

He’d lost track of Simon for hours after that.

It must have been almost sunrise when he saw him again, pinned up against a wall by a tall man. They were kissing wildly, the man’s tongue pushing into Simon’s eager mouth. He had one of Simon’s legs hitched up over his hip and was grinding against him rhythmically, and though Sir Elrick could not possibly hear them over the noise and music, he knew Simon was gasping.

Simon threw his head back as the man’s hips became more frantic, and Sir Elrick tried to turn away, but Simon’s eyes came open, and their eyes snagged. Sir Elrick was frozen in place as Simon continued to stare at him, his mouth open and panting. Simon’s hands gripped suddenly on the man’s shoulders and Sir Elrick actually took a step towards them before he gathered himself and stopped, only to watch Simon arch and cry out and spend hard, his eyes closing at last.

Sir Elrick felt a surge of lust which almost brought him to his knees, but he had turned and walked away as fast as he could, drunk as he was.

They’d never spoken of that night, but Sir Elrick’s shame at having watched and wanted Simon brought a coldness between them that, despite Simon’s jokey flirting, they’d never quite managed to thaw.

“Cheer up, your wound will heal well, I hear,” Sir Aeldred said.

“How do you know that?”

“Hamda told me when I went to get ointment for my...never mind,” Sir Aeldred said, shifting in his seat. “Simon told her, I expect. They’re thick as thieves those two.”

Lady Madlyn came by just then, with her attendant group of drunken Knights.

“A drink for everyone here,” she declared, thumping a bag of gold onto the table. A cheer went up.

She was a formidable jouster, but the jousting part of the tournament hadn’t begun. How could she have such riches?

“Where did she get the coin from? She hasn’t won anything yet,” Sir Elrick said.

“The House of Fortune,” Sir Aeldred said. “It’s the latest thing. Over on the east side of the camp. Everyone’s addicted! And very exclusive - only a few players at a time. You should try it. You never know, you might win that at least.”

Xxxx

Sir Elrick entered the House of Fortune hesitantly. The tent was in the seedier end of the camp - not that there was a particularly unseedy end - but this area was full of drunks and thieves and prostitutes.

And gamblers.

A group of people stood around the fortune board on the table. He could hear the click of the ivory dice but other than that, nobody spoke. The atmosphere was tense.

It was so dark in there. Sir Elrick gripped his money tighter. Incense burned in a corner, the air thick with its perfume.

The table was headed by a Moorish lady, draped in scarves which only left her eyes on display. Her eyes were beautiful; dark and rimmed with kohl. Sir Elrick had seen many women in this costume during his Crusade, and perhaps it was the drink, or the exhilaration at his boldness, but had never felt such a powerful pull towards a woman before. He set his money down before her.

“You make me feel lucky,” he said, blushing a little, and glad the tent was as dark as it was.

The lady inclined her head and pushed his markers towards him.

An hour later and he had cleared the pockets of every man there. He could not quite believe his luck, if luck it was and not his mathematical mind at work. He returned to their lodgings jubilant and full of plans for the money. He’d buy Simon a new tunic, and paper to draw on, and he’d buy them lamb for dinner tomorrow. And the horse would have oats.

He passed Hamda’s apothecary tent on the way home. She leant out of the door, her headscarf a bright splash of colour in the darkness.

“Your shoulder is much better now,” she announced.

“Um. Yes.”

“So your boy tells me,” she said. “He’s a good boy. Looks after you.”

“He’s not my…” Sir Elrick sighed. “He does.”

“Where was your boy going tonight? Very pretty. Pretty boy,” she said, swishing her skirts from side to side and laughing at him. “I saw him.” Sir Elrick felt confused. Perhaps she had indulged in her own potions.

“Do you have paper and inks for sale?” he asked, changing the subject.

“For your boy,” Hamda said. She held up a candle and Sir Elrick could see a sketch Simon had done of Hamda pinned to the wall.

“Yes,” said Sir Elrick, giving up.

It was deflating to find the lodgings empty and the fire out, and no sign of Simon at all, looking pretty or otherwise. He laid the gifts on Simon’s bed and took himself off to sleep.

Xxxx

 

He awoke the next day to find Simon busily drawing with the inks he had bought him.

“Hello. What you spending our money on this for?” he said, but he looked inordinately pleased.

“Just felt like it. I had a lucky night.” He told Simon excitedly about the House of Fortune and how well he had done. But Simon only looked concerned.

“I wouldn’t go back,” he said. “Luck like that won’t last.”

“Perhaps just once more,” Sir Elrick said. “I do seem to be very talented at the game.”

Simon shook his head. “Don’t,” he said. He stretched. “I’m going out for a while,” he said, and put his inks and paper aside.

Sir Elrick stopped himself from asking where, or more painfully, with who.

After he’d gone, Sir Elrick looked at the drawing at the top of the pile. It was a jewel coloured sketch of him in full armour, but much handsomer than he really was, looking like a hero riding into battle. Sir Elrick felt a fluttering feeling in his chest when he looked at it, and put it down quickly. He shouldn’t have looked at all.

And the sketch wasn’t about him, he told himself, not really. It was wish fulfillment on Simon’s part about the Knight he wished to become. Well, with every visit to the House of Fortune, he could bring him closer to that wish, however hard Sir Elrick would find it to do without him.

Xxxxx

The second visit to the House of Fortune was a disaster. Though everything seemed the same: same mysterious lady running the bets, same board, same rules, he did not win a single throw. And he made the mistake of chasing it, throwing good money after bad. He left in the early hours of the morning in despair, with barely a couple of coins in his pocket.

Returning to his empty lodgings again was even more dispiriting. He still would not let himself ask Simon where he was spending all his time, for he was sure the answer would be a kick to the gut. Sir Elrick increasingly had black thoughts that another Knight was tempting Simon away to be his Squire, with promises of greater riches, in return for certain services. And who could blame him? When the alternative was a wounded, penniless man with few prospects and a tendency towards melancholy.

Xxxxx

This would be his last attempt, Sir Elrick vowed. He had sold his shield and garnered enough coin to return to the House of Fortune for another try.

The Lady of the house was a little unwelcoming, sighing to see him, and thrusting his markers towards him impatiently. Lady Madlyn nodded to him from across the table. The rest were a mixture of camp followers and Knights he didn’t know.

The atmosphere was more tense than usual. Sir Elrick got the impression that at least a few of the Knights were very drunk, and Lady Madlyn in particular was in a towering rage. The House had obviously been the only one in luck this night.

A few rounds were played, with Sir Elrick making loss after loss. A panicked feeling began to grow in his stomach. _One more round_ , he told himself, _just one more can’t hurt..._

He wasn't the only one losing however. Hardly anyone was experiencing any luck tonight. Some nights there was cameraderie in losing, but tonight the mood was dark and dangerous. Sir Elrick began almost to hope that he wouldn't win after all.

Another game began. Lady Madlyn leant forward suddenly, intent. She gave a low growl.

“Wait just a minute,” she said, grasping the Lady’s wrist. She squeezed until the Lady gave a cry of pain and dropped the dice. Lady Madlyn picked them up, weighing them in her hand.

“These dice are loaded,” she said. She threw them down. Two sixes. She threw them again. Two sixes. And again. And again.

Sir Elrick glanced at the Lady whose eyes were wide. This was not going to go well. One of the men around the table stood up, overturning his chair.

“I want my fucking money back,” was all he said, and drew out a dagger.

The Lady stood too, and backed away.

Sir Elrick drew his sword. “There’s really no need for that,” he said. “I’m sure there has been some mistake and she will happily…”

The Lady shot out a hand and scooped all the coins off the table.

With a roar the man lunged forward with his dagger. Without thinking, Sir Elrick blocked him, flipping the dagger out of his hand with his sword. Lady Madlyn had a double handful of the Lady’s skirts by this time and was trying to knock her feet out from under her, but the Lady somehow wrenched from her grasp and got behind Sir Elrick.

“Just fuck _off_!” the Lady yelled in a distinctly English accent and Sir Elrick’s eyes widened.

Another gambler joined the fray, bringing a heavy stick down on Sir Elrick’s wrist. He dropped his sword with a cry. He had a knife but his right arm was still too damaged to lift it. The Lady crouched at his feet for a moment then moved like a flash to stand on his right, holding his sword.

“Now,” said Sir Elrick. “If we could all just calm…”

The Lady darted forward and kicked the table over onto their assailants. Then grabbing a handful of Sir Elrick’s shirt, she dragged them from the tent and into the dark rabbit warren of the encampment.

They ran for God knew how long, ducking this way and that. They stopped just as Sir Elrick was beginning to think he’d never find his lodgings again, the Lady breathing heavily and leaning against a wall, still holding him tightly. It was silent apart from their panting and the barking of a dog coming from a little way away.

Sir Elrick had never in his life been pressed up against a woman in a dark alley, and certainly not one who was a fraudulent gambler with mysterious eyes. He wished Simon were here. He had no idea how one was expected to begin a conversation.

“So, um,” he said eventually. “You’re English?”

The moon came from behind the clouds then, illuminating their hiding place. The Lady reached up and pushed away her scarves.

“By God’s toenails!” Sir Elrick said, startled into grievous blasphemy. He stumbled backwards.

It was Simon.

“What...what. What. What,” said Sir Elrick.

“Sorry,” Simon said, almost in a whisper. “It was a shit idea.” He slid Sir Elrick’s sword back into its sheath. Sir Elrick just stared at him.

“I sold my clothes to Hamda and bought all this. The board too. It’s a game she used to play when she was a girl - she used to run bets for it, and make lots of money. I was only going to do it for a few weeks, clear them out,” Simon said. “But then you came in and fucked it all up.”

“That’s...you were cheating people.”

“Yeah.”

“You cheated _me_.”

“I let you win the first time round, thought that would be enough for you. But you came back, so I rigged it against you to put you off. Then you came back _again_.”

“Well,” said Sir Elrick.

Simon looked unrepentant. “We needed money. And you forbade me from the obvious, so…”

“Yes,” Sir Elrick said. “I wasn’t sure if you were doing it anyway.”

“I’m you’re squire aren’t I? I still obey you.”

Sir Elrick’s heart sped up a little at the thought of that. “But why didn’t you tell me what you were up to?”

“Because you’d tell me not to,” Simon said. “Why didn’t you tell me what we need all the money for?”

“Well...” He hadn’t, had he. But surely Simon knew? It was the thing he longed for, though he’d never pestered Sir Elrick about it.

“You used to tell me everything. Not any more. I thought if I just helped you out, you’d talk to me. And,” Simon’s voice broke a little. “ It’d be how it used to be.” He looked up at Sir Elrick with such hurt in his eyes that Sir Elrick’s heart lurched.

“Simon,” he said.

“It’s true though, isn’t it? You don’t talk to me about things. Sometimes you don’t even look at me.”

Sometimes I can’t trust myself to look at you, Sir Elrick thought.

“I should have spoken to you long since,” he said. “I know how you want to be a Knight. I want that for you too, it’s just been a little harder than I expected to find the funds. But if you can just be patient a while longer...And I’ll have to find a new squire of course - it’ll be hard replacing you, but perhaps...”

“What the _fuck_ ,” Simon exploded.

“I know,” Sir Elrick said. “I know it’s frustrating…”

“You…” Simon said, with restrained rage. “You don’t know fuck all about anything.”

With that he gathered his skirts up and plunged off into the darkness of the camp.

Xxxx

Sir Elrick expected Simon had gone home. He wanted to go home too but it took him a good hour or two to find his way, and by that time the sun was coming up.

He passed Hamda as he finally returned, setting out her stall.

“I saw your boy just now,” she called out. “Very pretty. Nice dress. My dress.”

“Yes,” Sir Elrick agreed, too tired for propriety. “He’s very pretty.”

“So,” she said, hands on hips. “Why was he crying?”

Because I’m a great blundering idiot, Sir Elrick wanted to say. “What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell me nothing. That pretty face, so sad. A good boy. Where you been?” Hamda said, glaring. “You have a lady?”

“No!” Sir Elrick said nervously. The woman was terrifying. Why Simon liked her so much was beyond him. “Of course not.”

“Well then,” she said, waving a dismissive hand at him. “Go find him.” She called Sir Elrick something in her own language which couldn’t have been flattering but certainly sounded expressive, and turned away.

Sir Elrick pushed open the door to their lodgings, but there was no one there. The dress was flung over Simon’s bed, stained at the hem from their hectic run through the lanes.

Coins were spilled carelessly over the bedclothes but other than that there was no clue as to where Simon had gone.

He sat down heavily on his own bed. God, what a night. Slowly he fell back against the mattress. He would rest a little, just a little, and then find Simon. And fix everything.

Xxxx

Sir Elrick was awoken from his exhausted sleep by a commotion outside. He could hear laughter, and Simon trying to whisper but failing, and another man’s voice. Sir Elrick tore open the door.

“Oh!” said the squire who stood there, holding a drunken Simon up. Simon’s shirt was more undone than not, and the other man’s hand was far too close to Simon’s arse for Sir Elrick’s liking. “He said I could take him home.”

“Well you have,” Sir Elrick said, taking possession of Simon. “Now go away.”

Simon was plastered and giggly and Sir Elrick steered him over to his own bed. He fell backwards, pulling Sir Elrick with him.

“Where’d my friend go?” he slurred. He smelled of cider; no wonder he was such a disaster.

“I sent him off. You need to sleep.”

“In a minute.”

He stroked Sir Elrick’s hair, and Sir Elrick let him. It felt almost natural to be lying here with him, being touched. He tried to speak twice, but couldn’t quite think where to start. Simon broke the silence.

“It was you, you know,” he said.

“Me what?” Sir Elrick said, leaning in to the fingers threaded in his hair just a little too much.

“Who broke my heart,” Simon said softly, turning his face into Sir Elrick’s neck. Sir Elrick took hold of Simon’s shoulder and tilted him back so he could look at him.

“You’re very drunk,” Sir Elrick began. Simon looked up at him hazily. He still had the remains of kohl around his eyes, making them look enormous. He was looking from Sir Elrick’s eyes to his mouth and back again, and by God, he could not have looked more tempting.

Sir Elrick sat up. “You should sleep.”

Simon’s eyes welled up suddenly, and he scrubbed at them. “I knew you wouldn’t listen,” he said. Then, grinning, he took Sir Elrick’s hand for a moment

“Would you love me if I was a mathematical occasion?” he said.

“Equation,” Sir Elrick said, squeezing his hand, but Simon’s eyes had fluttered closed already.

 

xxxx

Sir Elrick had gone out to get food and a tincture from Hamda that would help Simon’s aching head when he awoke (which he paid for in both coin and a stern lecture about upsetting his boy).

When he came back, Simon was sitting with his head in his hands on the edge of the bed.

“Does your head ache?” Sir Elrick asked. “Hamda sent this.” He held out the small bottle. But Simon didn’t raise his head.

“Simon,” Sir Elrick said, and sat down beside him. He rubbed a tentative hand between the boy’s shoulder blades and realised he was trembling.

“Did you mean what you said last night?” he said at last, his voice muffled by his hands.

“Of course I meant it. But that doesn’t mean you have to…Oh, Simon. Tell me what’s wrong, won’t you?” Sir Elrick said softly.

When Simon looked up, a tear was spilling down his cheek. He swiped at it.

“I know I fucked up with your shoulder,” he said. “And it’s not even the first time. And I can’t cook. And I get drunk and kiss boys. But don’t pay me off, don’t replace me. Let me stay, I can do better.” He looked up at him. “I just...I wish you loved me.”

Sir Elrick couldn’t speak.

“I thought you might, once. We were at a feast, a year ago - you probably don’t even remember. You looked at me, and just for a moment I really did think you felt like I did,” he made a helpless gesture. “but then you got so angry with me touching you, I knew I’d been mistaken. And everything’s been all wrong since.”

“So you -” Sir Elrick said at last. “That is...did you just say...”

“Yeah,” Simon said, biting his trembling lip.

“It’s just,” Sir Elrick said slowly. “I’ve loved you for so long now. I never wanted to burden you with it. With me. You...you’re serious?”

“It wouldn’t be a very funny joke,” Simon said. His tears had stopped, though he still trembled.

“I wanted you to have the freedom to have a choice.”

“I’ve always had a choice,” Simon said, and Sir Elrick blinked in the wake of that truth.

Simon put a hand on the side of Sir Elrick’s face.

In Sir Elrick’s imaginings, Simon had always kissed him like he’d kissed that man at the feast. Open mouthed, hard, filthy. But this was the real Simon, his lithe body against Sir Elrick’s and his hands in his hair and Sir Elrick’s heart stuttered with anticipation.

Simon pressed his mouth to Sir Elrick’s gently, as though just tasting him. Then he pulled back before tilting his head and fitting his mouth to Sir Elrick’s again, lips moving a little, grazing against his. Sir Elrick breathed out shakily just as Simon gave a little moan and bit lightly and lingeringly on Sir Elrick’s lower lip. Sir Elrick lost all restraint. With a moan he leant forward, pushing his tongue into Simon’s mouth, and then they were kissing wildly, just as Sir Elrick had seen Simon do that night, but this time it was with _him_ , and it was incredible. Tender, frantic, messy, punctuated with little gasps and laughs of wonder as they explored each other. Simon had his hands fisted in Sir Elrick’s shirt and Sir Elrick had scooped his hands under that glorious arse and had lifted Simon across his lap.

“I knew you’d be good at this,” Simon said breathlessly.

“How could you know that?” Sir Elrick said, kissing his way down Simon’s beautiful throat and loving the way it made him writhe against him.

“Why do you think I stuck around? I had offers you know. _Oh_!”

“I’m sure you did. I can think of half a dozen people who like you,” Sir Elrick said, nipping at his throat with his teeth.

“Mmm. Everyone likes me, I’m irresistible,” said Simon. “But not you.”

Sir Elrick nuzzled at his ear. “But yes me. _Always_ me.” Simon moaned.

“Sir Aeldred was going to keep me in his castle as his bit of stuff.”

“Is that fucking right,” Sir Elrick growled.

“Well, yeah but I was sucking his prick at the time, he’d have said anything.”

Sir Elrick gave a low groan, and pulled Simon closer. “I dread to think what things I’ll promise if you do that to me.”

“No ‘if’ about it,” said Simon, his hands at Sir Elrick’s waist. “Any minute now in fact.”

Sir Elrick’s head swam at the thought. A minute would be about all he’d last too.

“So what promises you going to make me?” Simon said, his thighs straddling Sir Elrick’s now, unfastening his own shirt.

“The thrill of coming back to England and watching me build a cathedral?” Sir Elrick said, only half joking.

“You mean it?” Simon said his hands stopping their work.

“Well…” Sir Elrick laughed. “I’m not sure…”

“Why _don’t_ we go? Why not?” said Simon, his eyes lighting up. “You don’t want to be a Knight any more than I do. You can’t compete, and I can’t earn money any way you’ll let me. We’ve got enough to get home. You could do it.”

“Hmm,” said Sir Elrick, not sure if he should be agreeing to anything with his prick as hard and distracting as it was just now. “You’ll get bored. Unless I teach you geometry.”

Simon groaned. “Nah. I’ll get apprenticed or something. Stone mason. I could make those little gargoyles for the roof, could make them look like people you don’t like.”

“Sir Aeldred,” Sir Elrick said, pettily.

“Oh ho,” Simon said, delighted. “If you like. With his tiny little...feet.” Sir Elrick kissed him for that.

“And you’ve to promise to leave the priests alone,” Sir Elrick said after a while. “No tormenting them.”

“Not likely. They’re worse than me. Pure filth, the lot of them,” Simon said, pushing Sir Elrick over onto the bed and beginning to kiss him all over again.

“And the monks too, you’re not to…”

“Sir Elrick,” Simon said, and Sir Elrick looked up at him; shirt open, lips red and prick straining at his britches. _God’s oath, he was beautiful._ “If you don’t get your hands on my flying buttresses in the next five minutes I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“You know I can’t resist those,” Sir Elrick said, and reached for him.


End file.
